


For Whom the Toad Croaks

by danceswithhamsters01



Series: Reddit Prompts [92]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Accidents, Confrontations, F/M, Hangover, Magic, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:20:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23735251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithhamsters01/pseuds/danceswithhamsters01
Summary: Based on a prompt from r/dragonagePrompt 5: “Do not tempt me.”Sevarra had far too much to drink and someone had the brilliant idea of getting on her bad side. He's met with unexpected results. This is the morning after.
Relationships: Female Amell/Zevran Arainai
Series: Reddit Prompts [92]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1153856
Kudos: 10





	For Whom the Toad Croaks

She awoke to a painful throbbing in her temples – well, her entire face, really – as the light of mid-day stole in from the part in the curtains. She tried to pull the blanket over her head and muttered curse words in a variety of tongues. She rolled over, clutching the blanket tightly, and prepared to play dead in hopes of the hangover leaving and finding someone else to bother.

“Mi amora, we need to talk,” a musical voice carrying a note of irritation said as a sun-kissed bronze hand peeled the blanket off her.

Sevarra whimpered from the lack of warmth and the pain from just how loud his voice seemed. “No need to bloody yell,” she said as she gave in and opened one eye while curling into a ball in a vain attempt to keep some scrap of warmth. Perhaps sleeping in just her smalls hadn’t been such a grand idea.

A croaking sound made her open the other eye and sit up. “What the bloody hell was that?!”

Zevran arched a brow and held a small brown and grey amphibian creature in front of her face. The creature seemed to scowl at her with its yellow eyes and uttered another series of croaks. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“That… looks like a toad,” she said while rubbing one temple. Andraste’s flaming arse, did he and that creature have to be so _loud_?

“And where, exactly, did this… creature come from? I know that the keep’s mabaris would’ve eaten any they came across. In fact, I had to rescue this revolting specimen from your beast’s slobbery maw. This… thing is not one of the locals, as it were.”

She tilted her head and stared at the toad. Its golden eyes still held malice in them. He was right, there were no toads around Vigil’s Keep. She’d given up trying to introduce them to the gardens after discovering that Fang and his progeny found them to be wonderful if short-lived, playthings. What was more, that creature was entirely the wrong color. The ill-fated garden toads she’d smuggled in had been green, not dusty brown and grey.

The Warden-Commander heaved a sigh and shivered. She looked around and spied one of her housecoats hanging over the back of a chair. “You’re right. That isn’t one of the poor sods I brought in.” She rose to her feet and wobbled for a brief moment before making her way to the chair and slipping the robe on and tying it closed.

“What is most distressing of all, however, is this,” he said as he held up a mostly-empty bottle that used to hold Antivan brandy. “I know for a fact that only one other person aside from myself knows where I keep this. I also know that I didn’t drink most of this by myself,” he said with a small note of accusation in his voice.

She groaned and sighed while sinking into the chair. “I’m afraid I got carried away after I got angry last night.”

“Indeed. The last time you had more than one shot of this, you challenged Oghren to a drinking contest. That incident’s aftermath took over a week to clean up and a talented stonemason to repair the damage.”

She held her head in her hands. “I’m sorry, love. I’ll replace it, I promise.”

“There is something more,” he continued after setting the toad on the small table next to the chair. “Bann Harolf is missing. No one has seen him since you held court the other night. One of the guards said she saw him storming toward your quarters.”

The scene came back to her in bits and pieces. She had been exhausted, cranky, and all-together in a rotten mood after holding court with a gaggle of banns who seemed bent on getting what Howe had promised them before the war and not taking no for an answer. Harolf had been the worst of the lot, screaming obscenities at her for refusing to grant him control of farmland that belonged to a minor lord’s next of kin, namely the deceased’s wife and nearly-grown sons. The minor lord in question had perished at the hands of Howe’s forces during the war. She remembered slinking away to her quarters and stealing at first just one small serving of the brandy to help soothe frayed nerves. One small cup had become two, and then three, and then four, and then… well, however many she managed to gulp down. An attempt on her life had been made not even three days beforehand and saying that she was tense would’ve been an understatement. When Harolf had burst open her door and begun shouting at her in _her quarters_ of all places…

Her head shot up as dread settled into her belly. She eyed the little toad on the table. “Maker’s ass… I think I know what might’ve happened to him.”

Zevran arched a golden brow but remained silent.

“I think… I think that’s the bann,” she said while pointing at the toad.

“I believe you are still drunk, my dear.”

“I _wish_ I were still drunk. I’m bloody hungover. I’m also telling the truth,” she grumbled.

He crossed his arms and continued giving her a “look.”

“I had a drink – okay, several drinks – to calm my nerves. The next thing I know, that bastard Harolf kicked in the door and began yelling at me. I felt threatened. I did what any mage does when we feel threatened: use magic. And, well…” she gestured toward the toad, “that was the result.”

“You turned him into a toad? You honestly expect me to believe that?”

“Truth is truth, no matter if you believe it or not,” she said with a pout while folding her arms.

Whatever he was going to say in reply was drowned out by the sound of the small table collapsing under the weight of a fully grown man, accompanied by that man’s cursing.

“Bloody witch! I’ll tell the King! I’ll tell the Grand Cleric herself! You’ll hang for this!” the formerly missing bann rumbled.

Sevarra shot the assassin an _I told you so_ look. Without missing a beat, he drew a dagger and held the point a hair’s breadth from the man’s throat.

“I believe you are going to answer some questions, my good man. Starting with this: Why did you have the gall to enter our bedchambers unbidden? You most certainly are not the type either of us would invite in to play,” the elf said in a cool tone.

“Sodding knife-ear! I don’t have to explain myself to the likes of you!” the bann spat.

“Call him that again and I’ll freeze your balls off,” she glared, summoning a tiny flurry of snow to dance around her hand to give some weight to her threat. “Do not tempt me, ser. I already turned you into a toad once, remember?”

The florid bann went pale and nodded meekly.

“Good. Now answer his question.”

With that, the giant hairy man-canary began to “sing.”

**Author's Note:**

> A follow-up to this prompt can be found here! https://archiveofourown.org/works/24134764


End file.
